


Unexpected Company

by OneBlueUmbrella (bigblueboxat221b)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, But Only a Little Bit - Freeform, Developing Relationship, M/M, Musical References, Patrick Brewer is Gay, Recreational Drug Use, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28026963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/OneBlueUmbrella
Summary: Prompt: "#11 High School AU- David is in the winter musical at school and Patrick, a jock, is forced to sign up and they meet like that."
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71
Collections: Numerous OTPS Infinite Fandoms, Schitt's Creek Holiday Festive Fic Swap 2020





	Unexpected Company

Patrick blinked at Coach in horror. “What?” he whispered, the word sticking in his throat.

“The winter musical,” Coach repeated, tossing a baseball from hand to hand as he often did while he was speaking. “They need help backstage, and I owe Mr. Ondaatje a favour. And since you owe _me_ laps for being late every Wednesday since the start of off-season training, I figured you might like to wipe that slate clean.”

Patrick stared at him, mind racing. Of course he’d like to get rid of all the laps he owed. At this rate he’d never make it onto the field for a practice game, let alone a real one. Even doing a few extra laps a day, he was weeks away from erasing his debt, all because his English teacher kept him late a few Wednesdays in a row and his coach had a ‘one lap per minute late’ policy.

“What’s the time commitment?” Patrick asked cautiously.

Coach riffled through the papers on his desk, pulling out a piece of paper. “Friday nights and Saturday mornings until the show, then four shows over performance weekend. Oh, and you have to help…bump out. Whatever that means,” Coach added, tossing the notes back onto his desk.

“It means pack up,” Patrick said absently.

“Well it sounds like you’re in,” Coach said. “Starting tomorrow. Report at the auditorium, four o’clock.”

Patrick held in a groan. “Yessir,” he replied in a resigned tone.

It looked like he was heading for the stage. Again.

“At least you don’t have to sing,” Patrick’s teammate pointed out as they closed their lockers on Friday afternoon. Ben was more empathetic than the others, most of whom had sniggered when Patrick explained what he was heading off to do.

“Yeah,” Patrick replied. He wasn’t really interested in getting into his past with the stage; it would lead to too many other uncomfortable questions. Right now his goal was to get through this and concentrate on being on time for practice in the future. He might even be able to grab a spot on the team. Glancing at his watch, he swore.

“Gotta go,” Patrick said. Ben grinned, and Patrick turned for the auditorium. With any luck he’d be painting sets or something. Anything mindless would be fine. Especially if it meant he could keep a low profile. As he wove through the students loitering in the halls, Patrick decided that was one of his goals. Make sure he wasn’t noticed. He didn’t even know which show they were doing. Not that it mattered, he told himself, pushing the door inwards.

Immediately he was hit with the specific kind of cacophony that only meant one thing.

_Theatre._

People calling to each other.

Excited voices warming up.

Tap shoes skittering across the floor.

A piano playing sections of a score.

Patrick pushed down the surge of excitement. No. He was here because he had to be, and because he would never get to be on the Varsity baseball team if he didn’t clear his debt, and this was a hell of a lot easier than running however many laps he owed Coach.

“Hey,” Patrick said, grabbing the nearest passing student. The boy was taller than he with perfect hair and remarkable eyebrows pulled together over an impatient expression.

“What?” the boy said bluntly.

“Um, who’s in charge?” Patrick asked.

“Uh, me,” the boy replied, with a tone that said, _Obviously_.

“I mean, which teacher?” Patrick clarified. “I think I’m meant to find Mr. Ondaatje?”

The boy clicked his tongue. “I’m the director,” he said self-importantly.

“Right,” Patrick said. “Well, I’m Patrick Brewer, Coach Grant sent me?”

The director, who had looked like he was about to leave for their entire conversation, finally turned to look at Patrick. It was a slow up and down, before raising one of those eyebrows. “Right,” the boy said, clearly mimicking Patrick. “Well, I’m David Rose. Mister Ondaatje is technically the staff member on site, but he’s hopeless. So I’m in charge. I’m a senior.”

Patrick nodded. “Well, tell me what you want me to do,” he said. “I’m here to help with whatever needs doing.”

The eyebrow stayed high as David replied in an amused tone, “Well that’s a fairly broad idea,” he said. Patrick felt himself grow warm, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. “Why don’t you go backstage and find Atlantis. He’ll get you started for today.”

Patrick nodded, heading backstage. He wondered if he could actually feel David’s eyes on him or if it was just self-consciousness at being here again. Either way when he glanced back David was lost to the gaggle of tap dancers that had swarmed into the aisle. Shrugging, Patrick turned back. He needed to find someone called Atlantis.

+++

“Of all the shows,” Patrick grumbled, kicking moodily at a rock. It was dark now, and he was glad of the cover it afforded him as he walked home. Of all the shows they could have been doing, it had to be _Company_ , the show he knew better than any other. The good news was rehearsals were clearly a lot further along than he’d anticipated. It was only a few weeks until the show, which meant a lesser time commitment for him. The bad news was he’d barely been able to stop himself humming along as he helped paint the set. Most of the cast was pretty good; they had a lot of the harmonies down, and the boy playing Bobby was off-book, as he should be by this point.

When they’d reached ‘Married Today’, lyrically the hardest song in the show in Patrick’s opinion, Patrick excused himself to the bathroom. The actress was struggling with the song, and Patrick knew he couldn’t listen without mouthing along. He gave himself four minutes, then an extra two just to be safe. When he returned there was no music, which he took as a good sign, though the atmosphere was tense.

“What’s going on?” he asked Atlantis. David looked furious, the cast were scattered around talking quietly, and it was clear from significant looks the crew were shooting each other that something happened.

“She keeps messing up that song,” Atlantis replied.

“’Married Today?’” Patrick asked.

Atlantis gave him a weird look. “I guess? The really fast one. Director lost it at her and she ran off.” He glanced around, then at Patrick. “Again.”

“Again?” he asked, never more grateful for the gossipy nature of a stage crew.

“She’s never nailed it yet, and David’s told her if she can’t get it he’ll replace her.”

“With who?” Patrick asked.

“Nobody,” Atlantis said. “There’s nobody else. She knows it’s an empty threat but,” he rolled his eyes, leaving the rest to finish itself.

“Right,” Patrick muttered. He drifted back to his painting, trying hard to quell the flutter of excitement in his belly. This was not what he was after. He’d moved to this school halfway through junior year to escape this world, he couldn’t just jump right back into the same nightmare. Even if they were doing this show. Even if it was his redemption right here…

“Fuck,” Patrick muttered. He’d just painted the door the same colour as the doorframe instead of the colour Atlantis had given him.

“Okay, we’re done,” David’s voice was shrill as it cut across the noise of the auditorium. “Tomorrow morning, ready to go at EIGHT A.M.! We’ll start from the top of Act Two.”

The murmuring around Patrick resumed and he shook his head at his own absentmindedness. He’d have to fix the door tomorrow when this paint was dry. He packed up, apologising when Atlantis came over to point out the mistake with the door. By the time he was done cleaning up his space most of the auditorium was empty. David sat at his desk several rows back, the stress evident on face as he stared at the paper in his hands.

“See you tomorrow,” Patrick said as he passed.

“Yah, bye,” David said absently without looking up.

A flush of embarrassment ran through Patrick, and he kept walking, but David spoke again. “Did you hear what happened?” he asked, barely glancing up. There was nobody else around though, so he was probably talking to Patrick, right?

“Um, part of it,” Patrick replied, hoping David’s words had been directed at him. “I had to go to the bathroom halfway through.”

David nodded, his eyes roaming thoughtfully over Patrick. “What would you do?” he asked.

“What?” Patrick asked.

“If you had…what do you call it, a cast member that wasn’t pulling their weight on your sportsball team. What would you do?”

Patrick shrugged. “If a player’s not up to scratch, there’ll be replaced,” he said.

David nodded. “And if there’s nobody to replace them?” he asked, tilting his head and wincing as he braced for Patrick’s reply.

“You end up forfeiting,” Patrick said quietly. “I’m guessing you don’t want to do that.”

“I do not,” David said.

Patrick bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself offering a suggestion he knew would give away his history in the theatre. ”So what are you going to do?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” David asked. “Right now, probably go home, pop a pill, cry a bit and go to be early.”

“A typical Friday night?” Patrick asked dryly.

“Unfortunately, yes,” David replied.

They shared a smile, Patrick feeling his heart flutter before David cleared his throat and looked away.

“See you tomorrow,” Patrick said. “I hope you work something out.”

David looked up, surprise and suspicion on his face until he’d studied Patrick’s expression for several seconds. “Thank you,” he said finally.

Patrick spent a lot of the way home trying to work out what that expression meant. It was complicated and he had an uncomfortably strong desire to work it out. To work _him_ out.

Shaking his head as he found his keys, Patrick pushed it from his mind.

Tomorrow would be better.

+++

By the time he arrived at the auditorium the next day, Patrick felt much more settled. He’d finished his homework the previous night, and an early morning run helped clear his head. When he pulled the heavy door to the auditorium open though, he stopped.

“Hello?” he asked, voice echoing in the empty space. Someone must be there; the stage lights were on, and the door was unlocked, but Patrick couldn’t see a single soul. The house lights were off, which meant there could be someone sitting in the audience, but Patrick couldn’t work out why someone would do that.

“Prompt side,” came the answer from offstage.

Patrick headed over, wondering where everyone else was. He was a few minutes early, but surely someone else would be here? David had said ready to at eight and it was already a quarter to. When he ducked his head behind the flat, Patrick was surprised to see David sitting on his own.

“Hi,” he said uncertainly.

“Someone painted this door completely the wrong colour,” David said, waiving one hand at it. “How hard is it to get a paint colour right?”

He scowled at Patrick, managing to drink dramatically from the takeaway coffee in his hand as he did.

“That was me,” Patrick said apologetically. “I was distracted. I figured it was easier to let the paint dry and paint over it today.”

“Oh,” David said, obviously taken aback. “Okay.”

“Um, where is everyone?” Patrick asked. “Didn’t you say ready for eight?”

To his surprise, David flushed, his eyes skittering away. “Oh, did I?” he said, but it was incredibly unconvincing.

Patrick didn’t even bother saying anything; he could feel his ‘I don’t believe you’ face settling itself on his features. Sure enough, David rolled his eyes and conceded.

“Everyone knows when I say eight, I mean ten,” he said, the flush deepening. “I’m not a morning person, ask anyone.”

“And yet you’re here,” Patrick said. “Have been for a while, if the heat of those stage lights is anything to go by.”

David opened his mouth to reply, but closed it, raising one eyebrow instead. He looked Patrick over thoughtfully. “I have been,” he said finally. “It’s easier to think when it’s quiet.”

“So you’ve convinced everyone you’re not a morning person to get a couple of hours’ quiet time?” Patrick asked with a grin. “And yet the door was unlocked.”

“Nobody ever shows up until at least nine,” David grouched. “I usually lock it when I go and get my second coffee.”

Patrick raised his eyebrows. “I was going to grab one but I ran out of time,” he said. “I can pick one up for you, if you like.”

“Thank you,” David said, and the same combination of surprise and suspicion flashed over his face before his expression cleared.

“What do you have?” Patrick asked.

David paused before replying, “Macchiato skim, two sweeteners.”

“Sure,” Patrick replied easily. “Is that coffee shop on the corner open at this hour?”

“Yes,” David said. “And they do excellent muffins, if you’re interested.”

“Good to know,” Patrick replied with a smile. “Back soon.”

When he returned – two coffees and two muffins in tow – David was sitting stage left on one of the chairs they used in the show. Patrick locked the door after himself and called out a greeting, knowing David wouldn’t be able to see who it was with the stage lights still on.

“Why do you keep the stage lights on?” Patrick asked, passing David his order. He pulled up a chair to use as a table and one to sit on, waiting on David’s answer.

“I get cold,” David replied, drinking from his coffee. He frowned, glancing at Patrick.

“The barista recognised your order,” he said with a grin. “Or more accurately, he recognised it was wrong, asked if it was for you, and made what you actually order. Caramel macchiato skim, two sweeteners and a dash of chocolate powder.”

David grew very still. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Patrick snorted. “Maybe it’ll warm you up,” he said pointedly, not wanting David to be uncomfortable for longer than necessary. He felt like ‘snippy comments’ were more David’s speed than heartfelt admissions.

“Fine, I like being on the stage,” David replied, clearly irritated by Patrick’s response. “It helps me think.”

Patrick nodded, taking a bite of his muffin as he processed that. “And yet you’re directing?”

“I don’t perform anymore,” he said, the upwards inflection making it sound like a question.

“How come?” Patrick asked, trying to keep his tone light. As though he wasn’t curious what made a high school senior so…jaded, or damaged, that he no longer performed.

David didn’t answer for a long while. Finally he said, “There was just some…stuff that happened.” The quiet tone suddenly flicked, and he continued, “Anyway, but now I’m directing.”

“And how’s that going for you?” Patrick asked.

David flicked his eyes over as though assessing if Patrick was taking the mickey or not. Patrick waited, his curiosity about David growing by the second.

“Not as well as I might have hoped,” David said finally.

Patrick nodded, giving David the space to add more if he wanted to. When he didn’t, Patrick ventured, “Amy? Or something else?”

“Oh my God, where did you hear that?” David said, his hands gesturing wildly.

“Nowhere,” Patrick said. “I mean, we talked about Amy last night, but I don’t really know what’s going on except what I heard yesterday.”

“Oh,” David said, sitting back in his seat. “Well, yes.” He tried for a wide smile. “It’s a bit of a disaster, actually.”

Patrick nodded. “Do you actually have someone to replace her with?” he asked.

“What, someone who happens to know an entire Sondheim musical?” David asked, sarcasm dripping from his every word. “Why yes, Patrick, I’m simply overrun with options.”

“I’m sure,” Patrick said. “It’s a small town kid’s dream to be on stage.”

“Well that’s uncalled for,” David said, his voice rising.

“I’m from another small town,” Patrick told him. “Voice of experience.”

“Ah,” David said, his energy immediately dropping a little. “I was quite happy to find enough people able to do this show.” He glanced at Patrick. “ _Company_ is one of my favourites.”

Patrick grinned. “Better than _Cats_?” he asked, teasing.

“Uh!” David said.

Patrick opened his mouth to apologise, but to his astonishment, David stood up, punctuating his impassioned explanation of the shortcomings of _Cats_ with wide arm and hand gestures. His voice rose and fell, shrill as he made his point. Patrick simply sat back and crossed his arms, grinning to see David so passionate. It was enthralling, and he couldn’t pull his eyes away.

“Anyway, that’s my opinion,” David said, as though he’d left any room for compromise.

Patrick grinned again, the warm spreading through his bones when David returned the smile. “Do you think she’ll get the song in time for opening night?” he asked, bringing the conversation back to their production.

“Sure, if she manages to memorise the lyrics, the stage directions, and actually sound like she has some emotional connection to the song,” David said dryly, the amusement dropping from his face.

Patrick winced. “Ouch,” he muttered.

David sighed. “I don’t know,” he said quietly.

Five seconds of silence was all it took to weaken Patrick’s resolve. Five seconds of David looking completely crestfallen before Patrick opened his mouth, regretting it from the second he drew breath.

“From what I could hear of ‘Married Today’, the problem isn’t whether she knows the lyrics,” Patrick said. “That song’s all about breath. She’s not breathing in the right places, so she’s not able to support her voice enough.” He took a big bite of his muffin to stop himself continuing.

David was staring at him, his mouth hanging open. “I’m guessing you know more about theatre than how to paint a door wrong,” he said finally.

Patrick rolled his eyes, chewing and swallowing. “A bit,” he allowed. “But I’m only here to paint.”

“And how’s that going for you?” David asked pointedly.

“Great, thanks,” Patrick replied with false enthusiasm. When David looked at him, aghast, Patrick sighed, closing his eyes for a second. “Do you want me to work with…what’s her name?”

“Aymee,” David replied.

“Not the character, the actor,” Patrick said.

“It’s Aymee,” David said. “But spelled differently.”

“Oh,” Patrick replied, nonplussed.

David looked at him for a second. “Would you really help?” he said.

“Sure,” Patrick said. His smile was a bit forced, but David wouldn’t notice, surely? Patrick was fairly sure he did notice, but the potential glimmer of hope for his show clearly overrode any hesitation he might have.

“Why don’t you and Aymee go into one of the rehearsal rooms?” David said finally. “We’re going to start with Act Two, anyway, and Hematite can read for her.”

Patrick nodded. “One condition,” he said, heart beating fast. Why did this matter enough for him to worry David would turn it down, ending this arrangement? David raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. “Don’t ask me about how I know about theatre,” Patrick said. “I don’t…I don’t like people knowing.”

David’s eyes remained on his as he considered Patrick’s words. “Can I ask why you don’t like people knowing?” he asked, and there was something in his tone that told Patrick his answer to this was important.

“It’s complicated,” Patrick said. He tried to figure out how to put it into words. “I don’t…I left my last school. And here, I’m not the music guy, I’m the baseball guy.” He swallowed, hating the half-truth. “I like being the baseball guy.”

David nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said, accepting the answer, though his eyes told Patrick he knew there was something else. And without a word he managed to be…disappointed?

“I should get back to that door,” Patrick said, crumpling the bag that had held his muffin.

“Sure,” David replied. “I’ll send Aymee around to you when she gets here.” He paused, before adding, “I’ll make sure she knows to keep it quiet.”

Patrick felt something twist uncomfortably in his gut as he muttered, “Thanks.”

He headed across the stage to the far wings, knowing for sure this time it was David’s eyes on his back as he walked away.

+++

Aymee, as it turned out, had no vocal training of any kind. She’d taught herself to spit the lyrics fast enough to impress her friends, but it just didn’t stand up when she had to enunciate clearly on stage. Patrick worked with her for what felt like an ice age, trying to get her to stop and breathe in the places he’d marked, but she’d thrown her hands up.

“I don’t need to breathe there,” she protested more than once. “Why can’t I just wait until…” she squinted at the lyric sheet, “there?”

“Because you don’t have time there,” Patrick said for the fourth time. “You don’t have the lung capacity to last that long. Sometimes you have to breathe before you really need to, so you can put all the-”

“I’ve had enough of this,” Aymee announced. She folded up her music, angry tears rolling down her cheeks. “If you know it so well, you do it.”

Patrick blinked. “What?” he asked.

“I am not a…a Broadway actress,” she said, dashing at the tears on her face. “Stop telling me how bad I am!”

“I’m not,” Patrick protested. He took a deep breath. “But you just don’t have the lung capacity-”

A wordless scream cut him off, right before Aymee slammed her way out of the room, the door bouncing open again after her. Patrick watched her go, sinking onto a chair, his elbows on his knees as he pressed his thumbs into his eye sockets. A wave of doubt came over him. Was she right? Was he expecting too much? I mean, she’d been cast for a reason, was he coming in here and pushing her too hard?

Standing up, he closed his eyes, pulling the lyrics out of that part of his brain he’d kept locked away for a while now. A few quick vocal warm-ups, and he was ready enough for this. Taking a deep breath, he started.

_“Pardon me, is everybody here?_

_Because if everybody's here_

_I'd like to thank you all_

_For coming to the wedding._

_I'd appreciate you going even more_

_I mean, you must have lots of better things to do_

_And not a word of it to Paul_

_Remember Paul? You know, the man I'm going to marry_

_But I'm not…”_

Patrick drew a quick breath and continued, the lyrics falling from his lips, the breaths short and sharp as he’d been taught. He could feel it was a little more difficult, which was understandable given how long it was since he’d actually performed this piece. His running must be offsetting it a bit, though, because he was able to get through. As he continued the choreography came naturally to him and he found himself acting the story as he went. God, he loved Sondheim.

When he was done, Patrick was out of breath, but not too much. His confidence restored – the breathing structure he’d given Aymee was _not_ too difficult, although her lack of training would have made it harder for her – Patrick sagged into a chair.

“So does that mean you’ll take the role?”

David’s voice came from behind Patrick, and he started at the noise.

“I didn’t realise you were there,” Patrick said, his heart suddenly beating fast. This was not good. There was no way David would let this go now, especially if Aymee had actually quit. Patrick felt his hands clench into fists, bracing for David’s words.

“Aymee quit,” David said, his words calm. “Fairly dramatically, of course.”

Patrick nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Whatever she said-”

“Unlikely to be true,” David interrupted with a small smile. “Don’t worry, Patrick. I get the sense you’re entirely incapable of not trying your best.”

Patrick nodded, still unsure why David was there. Did he want something? And why wasn’t he more upset?

“I wanted to let you know about Aymee,” David said. He blinked slowly. “That she’s gone.”

Patrick nodded again, pressing his lips together. He didn’t want to say anything if he could help it; who knew what he would blurt out if he got started?

“If you want the role it’s yours,” David said quietly. “I’ve told the cast we’re taking a break, there’s a couple still on book anyway so they’re under threat of terrible costuming if they’re not off book by next Tuesday.”

“Tuesday?” Patrick said faintly.

“That’s when you’re going to tell me if you want the role or not,” David said. His eyes were intense but not angry, as though he was concentrating on holding Patrick’s gaze. Patrick couldn’t quite work it out.

“You’re not going to tell me I have to take it?” Patrick asked, wincing at how needy he sounded.

“No,” David replied consideringly.

“But what happens if I say no?” Patrick asked.

“The show closes,” David replied calmly.

Patrick stared at him. “The show…closes?” he repeated. “Without even opening?”

“That’s right,” David replied.

“But…you’re only a few weeks away,” Patrick whispered. “And you’re a senior.”

David shrugged. “There will be other shows,” he said. “Think about it. Let me know.”

“How?” Patrick asked. There was something weird about this whole conversation.

“Come to rehearsal Tuesday afternoon,” David said. “If you’re not there, I’ll know you’re out.” He tried for a smile, but it didn’t quite come off. “No hard feelings.”

Patrick nodded, his mind racing as David closed the door carefully behind him. That had gone the exact opposite way he expected it after hearing David talk about the show earlier. He would have pictured David going right into dramatic overdrive, threatening, gesturing, his voice rising until it was almost too shrill to understand.

Venturing back out into the auditorium, Patrick could see that most people had gone home. Atlantis was still backstage, folding up the drop cloths they’d been using.

“What’s going on?” Patrick asked tentatively.

Atlantis glanced over. “You want the TL;dr?” he asked.

“Yep,” Patrick replied. A summary was exactly what he needed right now.

“Aymee quit, David lost his mind and stormed out after sending everyone on a break.” Patrick winced. This was the reaction he’d expected from David. “Came back stoned as fuck, all zen like a fucking yogi or something. Told everyone to go learn their lines, come back Wednesday. Disappeared for a bit, came back, now he’s waiting for his sister to pick him up.”

Patrick nodded slowly. Of course. A stoned David would be far more relaxed about the imminent demise of his show before the curtain even rose. Would he even remember their conversation tomorrow?

“Thanks, Atlantis,” Patrick said. “See you later.”

Atlantis, arms full of another drop cloth, nodded, and Patrick headed out, grateful the house lights were on today. He could see David slumped over the director’s table, smiling dreamily at something.

“David?” he asked tentatively.

“Yeah,” David sighed, dragging his eyes over to Patrick’s. He smiled. “Patrick.”

“Hi,” Patrick said. “Um, do you know we talked? Before?”

“You could be Amy,” David said. He frowned. “Wait. You’d have to be…Lamie? Camie?”

“Jamie,” Patrick muttered.

David sparked up, a huge grin on his face. “Yes!” he gushed. “Jamie!” Another sigh, and he rested his face on his hands. “But only if you want to, Patrick.”

“Even if that means your show doesn’t run?” Patrick asked.

“Yeah,” David said.

“You’re being awfully calm about this,” Patrick told him.

“You’re too nice to be mean to,” David said, voice still dreamy. “And I took a few pills. So I wouldn’t be mean to you.”

Patrick was still processing that when someone crashed through the main doors at the back of auditorium. It was someone he recognised from one of his classes; another junior, then. Tall, perfect hair, great clothes. She couldn’t be anyone but David’s sister.

“Hi,” she said, looking him up and down. She glanced at David, rolling her eyes. “Gah, David, you know I can’t get you out of here when you’re high.”

She turned to Patrick, affecting some kind of weird stance, hands flapping, an insincere smile on her face. “I’m Alexis, David’s sister.”

“Um, Patrick?” Patrick said. He cleared his throat. “I’m Patrick.”

“Well, Patrick, do you think you could use those big strong muscles to help me get my brother out to the car?”

Patrick blinked. Was she flirting with him? “Sure,” he said, because it was clear she wasn’t going to be able to get him out there on her own, and with the backstage lights off, Atlantis had clearly gone, too.

“Hey, David?” Patrick said. Alexis stepped back, watching, and he felt self-conscious as he tried to rouse David. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“M’kay,” David sighed. He flopped backwards, head lolling over the back of the seat.

“Okay,” Patrick muttered to himself. This would be easier if he just did it. Sliding one arm under David and pulling David’s arm around his shoulders, he managed to get David upright, his head rolling sideways until his face was pressed against Patrick’s neck.

“You smell good,” David mumbled.

Patrick flushed, glancing at Alexis, who looked somewhere between charmed and distracted by whatever was on her phone. “Come on,” he muttered, beginning the long slog up to the back of the theatre. Alexis was no help, wandering behind until they reached the door.

“Think you can get the door for me?” Patrick asked through gritted teeth. David was quite a bit bigger than him and a dead weight; it was taking all his strength to keep him from dropping like a sack of potatoes. Patrick wasn’t even allowing himself to note how warm David was, or how his breath tickled Patrick’s neck as he exhaled. Nope, definitely too much.

“Of course,” Alexis said, pouting at him on the way past. Patrick ignored it, heading with David in the direction she pointed. He managed to get David into the backseat without banging his head, but when he looked up Alexis was already in the driver’s seat.

“Be a button and do his seatbelt,” she asked, scrunching her nose at him.

Patrick sighed but did, leaning over David, conscious of how close they were as he struggled for the clasp. “Can you ask him to call me when he wakes up?” Patrick asked when he’d finally worked it out.

“Sure,” Alexis said brightly. “Does he have your number?”

Patrick recited his phone number to Alexis, who dutifully sent it to David’s phone. He wondered what she’d told her brother about him, but then decided there were things he was better off not knowing. God only knew what had happened to the teacher in all of this. He wasn’t inside, so Patrick figured he should lock up. It took him a while to find all the light switches in the theatre, but he did find David’s keys. Hopefully David would call tomorrow and Patrick could return them.

+++

_Patrick do you have my keys?_

_David?_

_Obviously._

_Yes, I have your keys._

_Well, may I have them back?_

_Please._

_Do you remember talking to me yesterday?_

_Um…maybe._

_Is that yes maybe, or no maybe?_

_We talked before rehearsal._

_Yes._

_And we talked after rehearsal?_

_You don’t seem so sure of that._

_I’m not._

_We need to talk._

_Where?_

When David arrived at the bleachers overlooking the baseball field, Patrick was already there. He’d been up early anyway, and when David agreed to meet, Patrick had left almost immediately, too restless to sit at home.

“You brought food,” David said.

“My mom’s brownies,” Patrick said. “Irresistible.”

“Of course, they’re brownies,” David replied. He took his keys from Patrick, stashing them in his pocket. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Patrick said. They munched on brownies for a minute before he said, “So, do you remember what we talked about yesterday? After rehearsal.”

“No,” David admitted. “Mr Ondaatje called me yesterday. He left several voice messages.”

“Ah,” Patrick said, wincing in sympathy. “I’m guessing he filled in the gaps of what happened in the theatre, then.”

David nodded miserably. “Aymee quit,” he confirmed. “And we’re on hiatus until Tuesday.”

Patrick nodded.

“When did I see you?” David asked.

“After she quit, but before you told everyone to take a break until Tuesday,” Patrick replied. He watched David nod, trying to work out what could have happened in between. He took a deep breath. “You heard me singing ‘Married Today’ and told me the part was mine if I wanted it.”

David froze, halfway through a bit of brownie. After a second he continued, eyes locked on Patrick’s. “I did?” he whispered.

Patrick nodded. “I didn’t really understand why you were so…calm,” he said carefully, doing his best to reserve judgement.

David winced. “Calm is not my natural state,” he admitted.

“I’ve noticed,” Patrick said with a smile, and something about his answer made David study his face for a long moment before he spoke.

“I’m guessing you said no,” David continued.

“You gave me until Tuesday to decide,” Patrick said.

“Tuesday,” David whispered.

Patrick nodded. He took a deep breath. “I want to tell you what happened at my last school,” he said.

David froze again, then nodded. “If you’re comfortable with that,” he said carefully.

Patrick rubbed his hands down the sides of his jeans. “I was a music kid there,” he said. “Singing, guitar, sometimes acapella stuff with my friends. We ran an open mic night, and I liked making acoustic arrangements of pop songs.”

“Past tense,” David murmured.

“Yeah,” Patrick said. “They were doing a musical and needed guys who could sing, so I auditioned.” He tried to laugh. “Landed the role, but I was confused because there was nobody in the play with that name.”

David looked confused.

“They’d decided to make Amy, Jamie,” Patrick explained. “A few of the roles were gender-swapped, but Jamie and Paul were going to be the only same-sex couple.”

“And that was a problem for you,” David said stiffly.

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Patrick said quietly.

David’s discomfort melted and Patrick watched, fascinated to watch him realise it wasn’t Patrick’s homophobia but something else that had been the problem. “Go on,” David said. His version of an apology, Patrick surmised.

“The guy playing Paul was a theatre kid,” Patrick said. “He was completely fine with the role. Nobody in the show had a problem with it.” He swallowed. “Not to begin with. But as we kept rehearsing…” he broke off again, looking at his brownie. “I’ve never told anyone this,” he whispered, clenching his eyes closed for a second before forcing himself to continue. “Playing Jamie made me realise I’m gay.”

The words sounded loud, and Patrick could practically see them sitting in the air between them. He looked up. Meeting David’s eyes took all his courage. The first person who knew why he’d quit, insisted his parents let him switch schools and pick up baseball after so many years off.

David’s expression was complicated. Relief, compassion, empathy. “Oh,” he said quietly. The word dispelled the heaviness of the atmosphere before he spoke again. “Thank you for sharing that,” he said. “I understand you won’t want to…”

Patrick reached out without thinking, touching David’s knee with his fingertips briefly before pulling back. “No,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I do want to.” He met David’s eyes. “This is who I am. And I love this show.” He smiled briefly. “And it’s your show, and it won’t even happen if someone doesn’t do it.”

“I have dozens of offers, remember?” David said quietly.

“Ah yes,” Patrick replied. “And how’s that going for you?”

David smiled in reply, obviously recognising the echo of their previous conversation. “You said it’s my show,” he said. “Does that…is that a factor in your decision?”

“It is,” Patrick said. He swallowed hard. “But I have no idea of your preferences. And I don’t want to assume you’d even consider a date with one of your actors…”

“Co-star,” David corrected.

“Co-star?” Patrick repeated.

“I had a call from Prairie today,” David said. “Someone started a rumour we might be replacing Amy with a guy and he’s quit in protest.”

“Which part did Prairie play?” Patrick asked. His heart was beating fast; he already knew the answer, but David saying it would be real, and he needed that.

“Paul,” David said. He smiled at Patrick. “So I suppose the question is more like, how do I feel about a date with my on-stage fiancé?”

Patrick nodded, his head whirling. “How do you feel about that?” he managed.

“Does that mean you’re going to do the show?” David asked.

Patrick took a deep breath. “I don’t know how my baseball team will feel about it,” he began.

“You being in the show?” David asked. “Or…the other thing?”

“Either,” Patrick replied. “But I think I need to make this decision based on what will make me happy.”

“And what would make you happy?” David asked, easing closer.

Patrick smiled at the loaded question. “A date with my co-star,” he murmured, deliberately dropping his eyes to David’s lips. His heart was beating too fast to make the move but David leaned in, pressing his mouth to Patrick’s.

_Oh. This is what people are talking about._

_Stars. Fireworks._

_Wow._

“You’re a nice person, Patrick,” David murmured, still leaning close.

“I believe the line is, ‘He’s so good, isn’t he?” Patrick replied with a smile.

“Yes, I am,” David said, his smile tucked sideways as he met Patrick’s eyes.

It was too much; Patrick leaned in, chasing the taste of that smile, revelling in the sensation he’d never actually understood people talking about when they described kissing. When David pulled back Patrick blinked, needing a second before he could focus.

“Are you sure?” David whispered. “Not about the show, but…”

“David,” Patrick said, then stopped, really thinking. He was apprehensive, that was sure, but there was no going back now. Not when he knew what it was like to kiss David, to have him look at Patrick the way he was right now.

“Easiest decision of my life,” he whispered, the words barely escaping before David was kissing him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Credits: ‘Married Today’ from _Company,_ lyrics by Stephen Sondheim.


End file.
